


Troubled Waters

by tendderpreyyy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 13:00:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18194906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tendderpreyyy/pseuds/tendderpreyyy
Summary: Desperation is suddenly palpable in the room; clinging to her like the reek of chicken shit and stale water soaked into the wooden boughs of the lower hold. At first there’s no indication whatsoever Fawkes has even heard her(not an uncommon occurrence for the cannon ‘boy’; though if she was honest, Rae believed some of it was put upon). He keeps chewing on hardtack and in the low light he cuts a frightful, and jagged figure indeed, hunching nearly in twain. She can barely make out the sound of his humming, with the gear shifting about them. Fawkes sways and lists with the rolling of the waves.





	Troubled Waters

**Author's Note:**

> An older piece for Akaiengarde, so much fun to write, tbh.

“ How about it then? ” The volume of Rae’s voice shocks her, along with how ridiculous the question sounds. Her attempt at nonchalance nearly breaking before it’s fully left her mouth, but it doesn’t; after three months on this boat she’s learned to parrot the other members of the crew rather well. Only the pattern of her diction gives away the unease.

Desperation is suddenly palpable in the room; clinging to her like the reek of chicken shit and stale water soaked into the wooden boughs of the lower hold. At first there’s no indication whatsoever Fawkes has even heard her(not an uncommon occurrence for the cannon ‘boy’; though if she was honest, Rae believed some of it was put upon). He keeps chewing on hardtack and in the low light he cuts a frightful, and jagged figure indeed, hunching nearly in twain. She can barely make out the sound of his humming, with the gear shifting about them. Fawkes sways and lists with the rolling of the waves.

He raises the bare knuckles of his left fist, beckoning Rae forward; the only proper sign he’s given yet. Fawkes doesn’t bother to turn his long neck to watch her approach in the gloom, a stiff legged shuffle over cargo to stand before him.

“ What’s that you’re going on about now? ” He asks through his last bites, swallowing loudly and thumping his chest for good measure. Above them the creaking of pitch sealed beams gives away to the drum of footfalls; and there is no other sound from either body below for a moment.   
Rae notices he didn’t bother to wipe his mouth; notices the way his shining lips quirk when he catches her stare, near to hypnotized by his lackadaisical attitude. Fawkes speaks again, “Come on now Love, you marched yourself all the way down here; so you’ve got to spill what’s so bloody important.”

There is no proper way to say it. No way she can dress it up finer than what it is; and for one perilous moment it is so gut-wrenchingly similar to the very way she took a gamble and ended up securing her place on this vessel. Honesty and cheek have served her well thus far, so with a deep breath Rae tells him the truth, “ I want you. Well, that is, I want a bit of fun; just a tumble. From you.”

Focused now, on Fawkes sharp eyes and even sharper jawline Rae sees his throat work like something’s been caught inside of his gullet. Errant hardtack or the offer itself, that remains unclear until he’s smiling, nearly ear to ear. There’s a flash of gold at the corner of his grin, precious as land; a real look and not the grimace she’s seen plastered over his visage to make others on edge. But then Fawkes laughs, and for one moment Rae fears she’s been mistaken. Fears she’s seen a reef instead or a sand bar and now she’ll end up wrecked and broken on a foreign shore.

She’s silent and still as a statue when he clenches and unclenches both fists atop both thighs, winding them into roughened sackcloth. Releasing handfuls only to smooth them back down and repeat the motion several times. Eventually, Fawke’s cackling gives way to airy little chuckles.

Fixing Rae with a look only ever reserved for his cut of a new haul.

“ This ain’t about the way I threw in my vote to keep you is it? Thought we was clear enough about that. You don’t owe the likes of me a mite of nothing...” He’s definitely out of sorts now; nervous of all things, and the sight of him this way makes Rae feel an unexpected(though not unwelcome) rush.

“ Nothing owed here, more of a venture. I've never sailed without an escort before; now I’m here on my own and this takes two folks of an improper mind- I er, I wondered if we could help each other...” At the last moment she can’t say it, neither can she stop nervous fingers from tangling into the cotton strings that keep her neckline as decent as she pleases. Less decent now, perhaps, unconsciously Rae tugs it past her recent tan lines and more numerously acquired by the day freckles.

Fawkes inhales loudly, sharp and hard enough that he turns and spits behind a coiled bit of hairy rope. When his face turns to stare it’s redder than her own.

“ I can’t deny the allure of a joint venture. Nothing ventured means naught to be gained the way I’ve always heard it told. So this is another maiden voyage, Eh? You’re full of surprises Rae, first to go on account and throw in with scallawags and now you tell me you’re cherry too?” He lets out a bark of laughter again, but this time Rae joins in with a smile.

She doesn't cover her mouth anymore, as was proper back before all of this. Let’s all of her teeth show and breathlessly tells him, “ I know how it sounds, like a periodical in some rag. But is it so strange a woman like myself would want to broaden her horizons?”

“ Aye, understanding that perfectly. Clear as a bell now, and you want Fawkes to do the broadening?” He stands up suddenly like he’s been bit by a rat, nearly knocking his own wheaten blonde head on the dried, swinging and headless duck carcasses, “ Take my seat darling, I’ve met plenty of career virgins; crack Jenny’s teacup as often as the next lad but, blimey, no lady like yourself.”

Rae moves towards him, watching his sinewy forearm push the ‘bloody fucking fowl’ up and away from her approach. Though Rae isn’t tall enough to hit them at all; she walks under his arm smelling sweat and salt clinging to his skin.

Her lush backside replaces his own, nearly covering the entire top of the barrel with her simple skirt; but her own legs are much shorter, swinging and tapping their heels in a way that mimics the tune of Lucio’s frenetically paced songs she’d heard the night previous. Rae feels merry and light for the first time in weeks, free and fancy filled like some heroine from a book; clutched in the grip of something new, fantastic and completely her own.

Smiling up at Fawkes, she watches his mouth curl again at the edges almost hoarse when he says, “ Ruck up that skirt now for me little one, I want to lay eyes on that pretty bit of sweetness first. Before I set about testing the vintage mind you...”

Rae feels her heart skip a beat, grabbing two handfuls of pilling and threadbare cotton and dragging them up past her shins, knees, and finally her pale thighs. Not knowing what he could possibly mean but finding herself at the edge of another precipice is bracing. Rolling the skirt up and nearly under her breasts, she’s exposed like a bit of treasure laid bare.

“We’ll get you some freckles down here too soon enough, you ever tasted and early season pear? Stole some when I was a lad, all sun speckled like your lovely shoulders with skin as fine as anything. Biting into one is like Heaven’s own sweet water, and white, white flesh.”

“ Only once at the market, it was a whole table of them from far off. No one could afford them, so we all watched the flies gather instead of buyers... Not going to let that happen to me Fawkes? I can’t stand it-”   
“ Jami- call me Jami, sweetness. And I’ll call you Rae, if you’ll have me.”

She breathes out her affirmation at the same moment Fawkes- no, Jami sinks to his bony knees, and fastens his mouth onto the apex of her legs.

Her head and neck tip skyward, staring but unseeing into the murky darkness; it’s like some trick when her legs won’t obey with her toes curling helplessly into her boots instead. The feeling of his hot breath and tongue and that lovely prow of a nose butting up against a part of her that made Rae’s mind blissfully empty, is almost enough she’s weeping.

She isn’t however, but droplets of sweat drip from her partially tended coif and more ringlets of hair escape each time she tosses her head. Jami’s shoulders are wide enough that she couldn’t close her thighs even if the need arose, so his hand is free to wander across the embroidered remains of her stomacher and up to the swell of her breasts. The clever fingers of his left hand teasing into the laces, like a fine instrument; until the prosthetic on his right joins them, already creaking and popping even palming nothing. One quick tug is all it takes with the left pushing the opposite way.

The sound of shredding ribbon blends well with Rae’s delighted, breathy sounds; covers Jami’s slurping and groaning.

His lips and tongue lathe her from stem to stern; fastening insistently about the top cleft of her womanhood and suckling. One of Rae’s hands slaps down onto the side of the barrel, loud enough both jump. Jami pulls away with a chuckle, taking deep greedy breaths of stagnant air and refilling his lungs enough to speak, “ A lovely little pearl you have here Rae, tiny as a little violet until I draw it out with a kiss. You taste better than clover honey, better than a fresh bit of sweet cream butter-”

His fingers are nearly immobilized by the remnants of her lacings, tied into her with an especially special and complicated knot; keeping them together through the storm of their passions. Slowly but surely it loosens dropping away from her form like a carapace; leaving her breasts free to move under her shirt, her hard nipples brush pleasantly across the broadcloth of her blouse. She finds her voice along with her first true deep breath in ages.

“ Jami, please keep going, I need it- I-I can't take it if you keep bloody talking about it.” One hand is into his thinning blonde hair before she realizes it’s even been done.

“ I get it love, just can’t keep my trap shut I’m afraid. Needing to be busy all the time-” Jami peppers the tops of her legs with wet kisses; catches her inner thigh with a sharp canine before settling back in like a starving man at a banquet.

“ Oh my goodness yes, by all the- I never knew, never imagined it like this. Is this what outlaws do to their ladies?” Rae speaks it to the beams crossing above them, but she’s loud enough Jami hums an answer into her center.

Now her fingers are gripping into his hair with all her strength, every muscle in her scarred forearms standing out. Enough her elbow pops when Jami just pushes his tongue inside her, twisting and stretching until his chin and nose press so hard into her pelvic bone it’s very nearly painful. The thought crosses her mind that if he dares to stop she’ll have no choice but to strangle the life from his gangly neck.

Flicking his tongue deep into her, Jami certainly can’t breathe properly; but neither party is concerned about that at the moment. Not with Rae’s legs shaking and shuddering; under some other power and accord, entirely foreign to her. Feeling herself racing towards something even greater than the wind whipping her face for the first time.

Jami removes himself from her insides, starts tonguing that little pearl he’d been nattering about like it’s his last day on Earth; to an effect unlike anything Rae’s ever felt before. Her whole body stiffens and freezes save her twitching lower extremities, because if she moves the spell he’s cast on her might break. She can’t bear the thought of not feeling just like this- of Jami stopping or faltering, but bless him and his lusty spirit because he does nothing of the sort.

Her eyes don't slam shut, she cranes her neck to peer down at the parts of him visible; watching the way his forehead crinkles with concentration at the moment she herself comes undone. Wailing long and loud, shaking like a leaf but stiffer than a corpse Rae swears something in her is snapped; with her innards wracked with pleasant shocks and cramps that follow down her toe tips.

Jami separates from her with a sigh, locking eyes with her and speaking hoarsely, “ To answer you, Rae; no it’s nothing like that, I don’t think. Not some bit of mischief for thieves to amuse themselves with that I’ve ever heard, and for that matter I haven’t licked out every back alley sally half the world over... Only you, only you my little treat.”

There’s an unmistakable commotion above them now, the sound of several voices; lilting and ululating with the promise of a mark. A ship’s been spotted off the port bow, and it was time for a hunt, with heavy footfalls covering their panting.

Rae can’t find it within herself to move at all, not that she possessed the knowledge or sea-legs for boarding or loading cannons. The knowledge of Captain Amari’s expectation of her book keeping roused her mind, if nothing else. In front of her Jami is standing and rolling his shoulders, shaking out his hands and discarding the scraps of her stomacher into the corner like a bit of refuse.

He’s looking at her again, with hunger in his yellow eyes when he tells her, “ Nothing gets my blood up for a fight like a good romp. Don’t get too comfortable, when we take her quick and easy... I’ll come for you again. Can’t stand another minute without you Rae.”

There’s a booming call for Jami to come, a call to run out the gun carriage with the rest of them. He’s hasty to climb the steps, sure-footed as a steed even with the rollicking and rolling of the ship.

Rae licks her parted lips at the thought of a true ride. Letting her skirt fall and tucking her shirt in before she walks above the deck to report to the Captain.

~

“ Just a merchant vessel bound for the colonies. Nothing but black strap molasses and cane, but for the odd bit of canvas.” Rae’s quill slides across the latest column faster than her mouth moves, with Amari watching her with the kohl rimmed eyes of a hawk.

“ How much are we down? Any injuries I should know of?” Captain Amari’s voice is smooth and smoky, despite her ability to project over the hellish din of a battle. With her customary pipe resting easily in one corner of her mouth and neat long, grey braid it doesn’t look like anything took place at all. Though not three hour earlier she was boarding their mark, and accepting an unconditional surrender from the few men still alive. “ I know Duffie’s arm is off, not a pretty sight I’m told. After he’s paid and settled what will be the figures for the others?”

Rae hesitates, watches a droplet of ink escape and blotch the vellum; her glasses sliding to the tip of her nose when she speaks, “ Duffie’s... gone, Ma’am. Was told his shoulder shattered and pierced an artery.”

An inhale from the Captain, and the sweet smell of shish-a fills the cabin when she opens her mouth again to talk through smoke, “ A shame, but now we won’t have to pay him will we? Any other casualties?”

“ No ma’am, and no serious injuries to report either. An odd rip in our sails, so the canvas won’t see port; but other than that we’re looking at sixteen pounds per head when all's said and done.”

“ Excellent, Miss Fontaine. Fly will see to the sails, now go and tell her she’ll do it handsomely before the day is done. That will be all.”

Rae exhales over the figures, dries the ink and leaves without another word. The door closes behind her and the wind hits her face, she drinks in the smell of the sea, fading black powder, and the tang of blood.

~

Finding Fly is easier said than done, with her light feet and constant orbit around the rigging it’s like trying to catch an oiled cat. Rae however, knows where she’ll be after a scuffle, and beelines straight to where Mako’s hulking shadow can be seen, carrying two barrels under each massive, hairy arm.

Calling out to him isn’t frightening, not when he was the second one to throw in his vote to keep her; but it’s true enough he speaks rarely other than to call out tactics. Face hidden behind a frightening shark mask most times Mako allows his actions and body language to speak for him. Despite his immense size he has the keen, quick mind of a former navy man.

“ Mako have you seen Fly? Captain says she’s got to fix the sail up, and smartly...” Rae feels ridiculously tiny standing before him, with her glasses sliding down her nose again. She watches him incline his head over at the heavy rolls of canvas behind him with a grunt before he walks to the entrance of the hold.

It’s the toes of her boots that give Fly away, soft soled calf-skin and oiled till they shine nearly every day, protruding over the humps of stiff canvas. Rae grabs one, gives her a shake but having no luck, she soon moves on to lifting her ankle and letting it drop.

“ Susmariosep! I- oh, it’s just you Fontaine. What brings you over and out of the books?” Fly sits up, scratching at her dark hair through a her hat. “ What’s required of a rope rat like myself when there’s no wind to speak of and we’re sitting on a field of victory?” She's yawning and stretching, popping her neck this way and that and attempting to stand with little luck.

“ Captain says you’re to start patching holes now. Before the night is upon us-” Rae can’t help but smile, though Fly has the look of a dignified Spaniard from far away; her ways are naught but pirate.

“ Oh aye, supposing I could take a look, got to reef sails before they tear.” Fly moves easily when she decides to finally do it, calling out and up towards the mast and surrounding rigging for Crake and Santiago to get aloft.

Rae watches, eyes wide and wondering at how any of them manage to stay balanced. Every single crewman moving from mast to rigging and back well enough it’s as if they were born into the crows nest. Fly herself barks out orders barely audible to her from down on the deck, resorting to hand signs when one is free; but not once does she falter in her duty.

Knowing it will be done soon enough, Rae finds her mind wandering back to her time with Fawkes- no, Jami in the hold. The way he looked at her and touched her in ways she didn’t even realize were possible; drawing out a bodily surrender that didn’t feel like losing anything at all, instead it gave her access to something she’d previously only dreamed of. Novels she’d hidden from her mother and father when she was a young woman couldn't hold a candle to the real passion of an affair. The thrill of asking a man, of being vulgar and telling him what she wanted.

The sun is getting low on the horizon and she finds herself suppressing a shiver. The spray of the sea dots her face and spectacles, settles on her hair and eyelashes like dew in a bronze field; Rae raises her fingers to wipe away the excess.

Another hand plucks her glasses away before she can remove them, and to her shame Rae can’t hold back a squawk, “ What in the-!”   
“ Relax Rae, just lending a hand. Can’t blame me for keeping an eye open; with it looking like you’ve wandered off in thought.” Jami’s voice comes over her shoulder first, then his shadow blocks out the sunset at her front when he’s done polishing her glasses. He steps in close enough to smell the black powder clinging to his hair and clothes when he perches her spectacles back onto her nose and talks again, “ Still down in the hold, eh? No shame in it love, I’d have you back down there right now if there was any bloody room around that new shite...”

“ Isn’t there somewhere else? Away from prying eyes where we can steal a moment of passion?” Rae's smiling at the way Jami seems taken aback, they’re standing on the open deck but no one can can hear over the raucous sound of canvas flapping several meters above them and Fly swearing loud enough any sea birds roosting scatter.

“ Got some potatoes to peel down in the galley... If you’re offering a delicate hand to help mine. It’ll just be me by my lonesome.” Jami winks, running a palm over her recently unburdened waist and pulls Rae close enough she can feel the hard lines of his body. “ I’m fond of you like this, free like we’re all meant to be. Bold too, the salt is good for you. Soon you’ll be a proper boorish scallawag like the rest of us, once I rip the rest of these fancy rags off...”

“ That’s your plan, is it? Rip my blouse open and shred my skirt so I’ll be naked as a babe? Where will I go then looking like that?” Rae is suddenly breathless, leaning into Jami and peering up at his eyes.

His pupils open like a cat’s in the dark, leaning in close to her ear to continue, “ You’ll not leave my hammock for a fortnight. I’ll have you every way I know, things that they do in the hot, southern seas that fancy girls like yourself might faint at.”

“ I haven’t fainted yet, don’t intend to start now. I’ll meet you then, provided you’re not too tired from fighting and peeling...” Rae almost steps away, but it doesn’t seem important enough. Even when Mako moves things somewhere behind them, directs others to do the in a voice deep and calm as the waves.

The crew moves around them like a silent current, but Rae and Jami are an island unto themselves in that moment. Dark water holds no mysteries anymore, not to Rae Fontaine. Jami holds her closer for one passing moment, squishing her breasts up against his chest and half groaning- half speaking at the way she sighs into him,

“ Nonsense, there’s nothing like a fight to get my blood hot. I’ll be ready when you are my sweetness.” Jami releases her, and turns towards the galley.

Rae sees Mako watch him pass as well; craning his thick neck to look back at her, then once more to Jami’s retreating back. One of his forearms raises with a clenched fist directed to her, before his thumb extends skywards. She smiles broadly, and Mako concludes their silent conversation with a nod.

The sun is still out, Rae figures she’ll enjoy the last bit of warming light before descending into the bowels of the ship. Maybe talk to Fly a bit before she settles in with a bottle and starts in on haranguing Mako.

The open sky and endless wheeling possibilities are enough to make her gasp, and Rae knows it won’t be the first time that night either.

~

The galley was thankfully deserted, just a swinging lantern and a pile of potatoes are there to keep the pair of lovers company. Sacks piled in the corner overflowing with skins and bone bits that had long since been boiled clean, fit for nothing other than the odd reliquary that could be hung above a hammock or off the hilt of a dagger for luck.

Rae’s voice echoes off of the sides of the room like a siren, rising and falling in tone as sure as the tides; bookended by the occasional rasping keen from the corners of Jami’s mouth that weren’t currently occupied by her cunt. It’s even better than last time, Rae is canting her hips upwards with every stroke of his long tongue; almost her entire lower body is arching off the small table. Bowstring tight but the rest of her limbs are buzzing pleasantly, fuzzy and warm with the bit of cooking wine they’d gulped down before she found herself laid open like another tasty meal.

“ Oh, please Jami- please just...” She can’t bother to collect her thoughts, much less master her own tongue to ask him for anything else. Rae’s eyes are misty with pleasure, and the smokiness of the small room when she looks down between her heaving breasts the length of her shaking body; this time naked as the day she was born and sweating like a whore in church.

Luckily for her Jami has thoroughly mastered his own clever tongue, moving faster and faster between her folds. This will be the fourth time today he’s licked her to completion; it seems that he doesn’t tire of hearing her, tasting her, and wracking her body with pleasure.

Craning his head up to lock eyes with Rae and replacing his tongue with a single, slim finger Jami opens his mouth to tell her as much, “ I could do this till the seas dry up, be buried special deep into your cunt until my teeth fall out with my hair all grey... You’re so beautiful Rae. Just the most gorgeous thing I could envision.” Moving his finger back and forth makes her groan in agreement, in encouragement to do just that. “ But I get the feeling you want more from old Jami than you’re crying for now, and you know I’m happy to oblige.” He pauses to straighten his own spine and palm himself for a moment, really looking at her when he stills his finger that’s already plunged so deep she’s riding his two lowest knuckles, with the other positioned just to the side of the bud above her entrance. Rocking against her pubic bone and then holding steady when he continues, “ I want to hear you ask for it though love, see if you’ll beg for my cock as sweet as you call out for my tongue.”

Rae feels her heart skip a beat, face getting hotter if that’s at all possible when she looks down at the tent in Jami’s trousers. He’s got a spot of wetness there, a dark speck in response to her own gushing; and the sight of it makes her swallow back saliva and a thirsty sort of groan. Rae's voice sounds hoarse to her own ears but she opens her mouth anyway to speak, “ I want it Jami, I want you to take me and fuck me. I want to see your cock and feel it too; please, please, let me have it.”

“ That’s a love, begging all pretty for me. Just a mite longer, I’m not a small lad so I’ll want a couple more fingers up you before I’m satisfied... Wanting it to be good for you, since you asked so nicely. Otherwise I may as well be a bloody beast.” Jami moves his hand back a bit; angling his wrist so he can uncurl the wet digit that was previously wedged up against her mound, sliding it in with barely a hiss from Rae herself.

With the second finger she can feel a stretch, a weight settling into her guts that isn’t anything that could be called painful; a bit odd if she was being critical. The action is enough that her palms slap onto the table, skitter to the sides to hold the edges like she's got to keep her grip or fall into some deep pit. There’s a noise leaving her throat like a groan, but she swallows it back just to hear Jami grunt with each thrust of his fingers.

There’s a wet noise coming from between them, faster and faster with each rock of Jami’s palm. Rae can feel how wet she is, how wet he's made her with no small amount of spittle and attention. When he adds a third finger she can’t help but wail long and loud at the pleasant throbbing in it’s wake, “ Fuck! Bloody- It’s so good Jami, you’re so good...”

“ I know it Rae, you’re leaking like a fountain or a dam, heheh. I’m that dumb little blighter with his finger trying to stop it up, I suppose.” Jami’s shoulders shake with amusement at that, before he leans down again to take a deep breath above where his fingers disappear into Rae’s body, “You’re slopping it all over the table now, could charge a fee for any scum sitting here hitherto if you have a mind...”

She’s panting and laughing at the same time, smiling down at him when she says, “ Or I could just have you lap it up, Jami. You don’t really think they all deserve it, I know that.”

Jami hums in affirmation, angling his fingers so Rae sees nothing but the insides of her eyelids she’s so deep in pleasure’s hold, before removing them altogether “ Aye, you got me picked for a jealous one; and you’d be right about that. Never could stand other’s touching something I had my eyes set on, or in this case my fingers. I think you’re ready for me now, truth be told. Burnt enough lamp oil on being a proper gentleman, and you’re shaking like a leaf...” Drawing back and stepping out of his pants, only momentarily caught up on his peg Jami looks down at Rae; the look in his eye makes her feel slightly vulnerable, but more powerful by several measures. Like she’s the end of the world and the beginning all in the same, strange way.

Rae’s eyes dart downwards, to see what all the fuss has always been about and she’s not disappointed; the cock between his legs is large and jumping with blood, beading with wetness at the tip. But it’s out of her eyesight too soon for her to admire the veins and cast of his hipbones framing the whole picture.

He looks between her legs, watches the blunt head of his cock push against her soaking lips, parting them until it’s held there by the lightest bit of pressure; then Jami’s eyes are glued to Rae’s own when he pushes in.   
  
The stretch is intense enough Rae can’t speak or even breathe, she just holds onto the table with her knuckles white and shaking. He doesn’t falter in his relentless push forward, doesn’t jab or rush at all; and as a result she feels every drag of his flesh into her own. He’s twitching out his heartbeat into her guts with the effort to do so, biting his lips and keening pitifully and rumbling deep in his chest like some great cat.

Rae feels her passage widening with each passing moment, an intoxicating sort of curiosity because she’s almost sure there won’t be room, or that it will start to hurt terribly like some women say it does. Though with each bit pushed into her she just feels a bit heavier, a bit more relief with her legs naturally falling apart and off the table entirely. Then Jami stops moving, holding steady with his pelvis pushed against her backside, and a hand under her lower back to angle her up to meet him.

His voice sounds rusty and shot when he asks, “ That’s alright for you, eh? Not hurting you too bad with it? Don't want you swearing off pecker all because I’m a thirsty dog...” His eyes are alight with lamplight and pleasure when she shakes her head. Jami continues in a stronger tone, “ I’ll start moving then, give it to you right since I seem to be hitting the mark.”

When he drags his hips back the first time Rae can’t help the squeak of displeasure at the emptiness she’d just shaken, missing the throb and twitch of him before Jami shoves forward again, hard enough her hips shove back on the table and he’s using both hands to bring her back to the edge and closer to him. He repeats the action several more times, each one becoming smoother and easier with her body opening up to him.

On every downstroke Jami hits a spot inside Rae that makes her sob with pleasure, something that makes her spine curl, mouth gaping open. She turns her head this way and that, her fingers starting to come away from the table, only to send her nails scrabbling down the wood when Jami starts to move faster.

“ Mmmph, you’re so goddamn wet, so warm like you been waiting just for me. Can feel you clutching at me, don’t worry Rae; I won't let you go without a good roll as long as you’re here.” His hips are hitting her own audibly now, the sound of skin on skin goes straight from her ears back to the area between her legs with an accompanying pressure that she knows to lean towards.

Rae’s blood pounds in her ears at the same time Jami is pounding into her cunt; moving faster and faster, pushing into her and jerking her hips to meet his own. Squinting against the glare of the lamp, the sight of him with his arms and shoulders tensed and shining with sweat has her licking her lips. One well placed, particularly harsh thrust parts her lips and keeps her jaw open while he pants above her.

Closing her eyes, but not her plush mouth with her hair sliding back and forth along the table like a tangled nest of bronze threads proves too much for Jami to resist. Rae feels something hit her tongue, a drip of sweat sliding back into her gullet or so she thinks until Jami’s telltale giggling is audible even over the sound of their fucking.

Cracking her eyelids open she’s greeted with the sight of Jami grinning like a madman; with his lips shining and parted as if to mimic her own. Lowering her gaze to his wet chin confirms what she already knows, but the words rise in her throat anyway.  
“ Jami... d-did you just spit in my mouth? Why...” She isn’t cross about the whole thing, just a bit curious.

“ Nngh... We’ll just say I want a part of me always with you. Something like that...” His head drops and his thrusts are losing their careful rhythm now, stuttering at the ends while his hands around her flank shake too. “ Lemme get you good one more time, since I didn't warn you proper. And I’m not long for this world either, sleep like the dead after I shoot but first I’ll make you see stars even though we’re down here.” One of his hands reaches between them and finds that pearl again, the nub of flesh that by now is so sensitive she almost arches completely off the table with the first small touch.

“ Make it good this time Jami, can hardly keep track of it all. You feel so good inside me, like this was meant to happen. I want to feel you drip out of me all night...” Rae croaks out, barely audible.

One small adjustment in his hips and Jami has Rae breathless again, noises wrung out of her like she’s almost in pain, almost fucked out but he won’t stop his hand or his cock. Just this side of enough, even if someone interrupted Rae wouldn't be able to stop bucking up to meet him; with the pit of her stomach and hole fluttering around his twitching length, she doubts Jami would hear if the mast came crashing down above them.

When Rae comes again, limbs shaking and throat exposed with her thrashing; she almost doesn’t feel the way Jami fastens his lips about her pulse point, sucking a bruise into the column of her neck while he fucks her through his own fits of pleasure. She can feel his balls tight and hot against her backside, and fluid trailing down onto the table beneath them.

Jami lays strewn above her with his eyes closed and panting like a hound, boneless like a marionette with strings suddenly cut, until their combined heat becomes unbearable. Slowly he relegates his bare ass to the stool he’d been using to skin potatoes when Rae had walked in. He still hasn’t opened his eyes again. Opening his mouth however, even around his gusting breaths is no trouble.  
“ If I open my peepers and it’s all been a dream, I think I’m like to throw myself off the crow’s nest next watch. Best fuck I’ve had since... Fuck it, since ever.”

Rae tries to sit up, but she’s still shaking with pleasant little aftershocks thrumming throughout her abdomen. So she settles for turning onto her side so she can admire Jami’s taut chest in the light when she speaks, “ If we’re both dreaming I hope we never wake. That was incredible, you’re incredible...”

If he replies Rae is already too exhausted to hear anything.

She closes her eyes for a moment, but when they open next she’s not in the galley anymore; instead cocooned in her hammock and clothed once more. Scratching at her neck, ghosting her fingers over the bruise she realizes her blouse may be on albeit backwards. None of that seems as important as catching the last of the darkness for a decent nights’ sleep until the guard duty switches at dawn.

*EPILOGUE*

Jamison Fawkes is a man going mad; naught has mattered to him since Rae made her little escape. He couldn’t blame her, she’s always been sharp as a tack. No sentimental fool like Fly or Mako, who had stayed and fought even as their bow was cracking, washing away like a bit of biscuit in troubled, briny waters. Of course he had as well, Jamison had a name and a ill gotten reputation to uphold; and he was proud to say it took nearly as many Navy cunts to hold him down as it did Mako.

She had been missing at roll call since the last careening, that was his closest guess. Gone off to see some sawbones or apothecary and vanished out of thin air the next day, and he had looked everywhere. But when the call went out to come aboard again, he answered; and there had been no sign of Rae.  
  
It was the beginning of the end of his luck, the next squall had him nearly smeared across the deck with a boom about the likes of which he’d not seen seen since his own leg was crushed by an improperly secured canon. Not another fortnight after that the ship found itself captured and taken in by the Queen’s Navy; prisoners of the law, soon to be dancing the hempen jig.

Two years he rotted in a cell, nothing to think of except her. The memory of her hair in the lamplight, the way her freckles looked in the sun and the sound of her laugh echoing over the waves. Jamison hoped he would die soon, but he lingered.

Captain Amari was the sternest negotiator the world’s ever seen, better than ten powdered barons and meaner than the headsman. And soon a letter of marque made it’s way into her slim brown hands; along with a staunch agreement from her crew to toe the line. Robbing spaniards was good, steady work, almost satisfying as his time spent dead drunk when he wasn’t on duty.

The first two years he drank it all away, sleeping on the ship or in alleys on away. But by the fourth or fifth year he’d scrounged enough to buy himself a pair of long clothes. Walking through mud and shit paved streets like he owns them makes him an easy target.

Jamison would’ve nicked the purse of some privateer cunt like himself as a lad. He’s too addled from the night before to run after the tawny headed ragamuffin who crashes into him(so blind drunk he didn’t see his face), so he follows him slow and out of sight instead. Down between buildings and over rubbish piles almost nearing his own height, but the little thief is tall for his age and easy to keep track of through the shadows and small groupings of drunkards and ne’er-do-wells like himself.

He follows him to a boarding house, a place for displaced women and children; watches hidden between the adjacent buildings when the door opens before the little blighter even gets in himself. A hand reaches out to grab his shoulder and Jami’s heart nearly stops when the rest of the boy’s mother leans out.

Rae’s come back like an apparition, or a dream; and Jami’s moving out of the shadows as well. In his drunken state and hurry to see, touch, and maybe even say something if he can wrangle his own tongue he doesn’t see the deep wagon wheel trench carved out in front of him. Before he knows it he's face down in mud and filthy water, rolling his sharp face to look up at Rae and that little shit that’s nicked his purse.

Rae has dropped the armful of linens she’s holding staring open mouthed with those perfect lips forming around his name, “ Jami, I-is that you?”

He wants to say yes, spring up and cry to the heavens that he’s been looking for her all this time and fortune’s made him a rich man; but none of that is true and he’s not like to lie now, not when he’s finally found Rae again, after she’s found him. So he spits a mouthful of mud and slime instead like a frog, wordless and bereft of dignity before his head hits the ground again. One of his eyes still watching them watch him.

A cackle cuts through the air, loud and reckless coming from the boy at Rae’s side; he’s pointing a long skinny finger at him and with his wide amber eyes alight with mirth. Some queer feeling in his stomach overrides Jamison’s urge to get up and give the lad a whipping because it’s like looking into his own face at that age save the curls crowning his head, when his own locks were lank and greasy.

Rae grabs the boy’s thin shoulders, leading him around fetid pools on a line straight to where Jami is lying about in the muck like a maggot. There's a roar in his ears like waves crashing on the shore when Rae speaks over him, “ Help me get your Papa up, he's been lost a long time.”

“ I thought you told me he was a proper pirate, he wouldn't let me steal from him would he?” The boy’s high and unbeleiving syllables carry above the cacophony. “ He doesn’t dress like a sailor...”

“ That’s because he’s on land Alexander, he’s come in for a bit. Now let’s get him inside and cleaned up.”

Jamison Fawkes may be a man gone mad; but he knows his own son when he sees him, and feels Rae’s arms around him once more. Stumbling through the doorway with his feet dragging before he’s propped up on a small, rickety chair he’s more alive than he has been in years.

 


End file.
